Rule Number One
by Invisia
Summary: They have won, but victory means nothing for George without Fred. And then comes Thyme Olsen- a strange girl who can take him back to days long gone, in an attempt to save his brother...


**A/N: **So, this was written for three challenges... One is the 'What a horrible time for a Time-Turner' contest, held by Drawkcab on the HP FF Challenges forum. The other is my own challenge 'OC and a Canon Character Prompt Challenge', because I thought I'd have a go. The final challenge is 'The 'Prove Me Wrong'' challenge hosted by Fire The Canon.

So here's my story; All The Time In The World... Or Not. You can shorten it to 'All The Time' if you so wish :) That clear? Well. Here I go!

**Edit: **After reading bonniebonbon's review, I've gone back and edited out some mistakes that I overlooked first time. The title has also changed, from _All The Time In The World... Or Not _to _Rule Number One. _

**Disclaimer: **I don't own HP- wish I did *sigh*

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**Full Summery: **_"My brother's dead," George spat resentfully. _

_"I know that," she said, rolling her eyes. "I never said he wasn't. I only said that I could help get him back."_

_"You're crazy," he told her bluntly. _

_"Look, just hear me out, okay?" she told him irritably. "I have a plan."_

_"Oh, _I _see," George rolled his eyes. "And what exactly do you have in mind?"_

_"What do you know about time travel?"_

The battle was over, they had won... except they hadn't. Fred was dead, and to George Weasley, victory means nothing anymore.

But what happens when Thyme Olsen, a mysterious girl with a helmet that can travel through time shows up, promising she can save his brother? George takes her offer up, and they are sent back to the summer of '97. Now they fight to save Fred, liberate Hogwarts- and all without letting anyone see them. Sounds easy, right? Well, not quite. Then, there's also the mystery of Thyme's past, which Fred cannot figure out for the life of him...

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**Prompt: **_Helmet. _

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**Chapter One**

**A Girl and a Helmet**

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It was over; the gleeful chatter in the Great Hall suggested as much. Lord Voldemort- terrorist and snake-faced- was finally, finally dead.

The problem for George Weasley was that Fred was dead, too.

Dead. Gone. Just like that. In all his life, George had never gone a day without seeing his twin- never. Not ever. But now... now he'd never see him again. Never hear him laugh himself silly. Never hear him ridcule Ron, or insult Percy. Never see that oh-too-familair grin...

He was crying again. He knew it, but he didn't care. Not one bit. He wiped his eyes with the back of one grimy, bloodstained hand. Looking down at his knees, he tried to calm himself down. He could do this. It wasn't the end of the world-

He couldn't do this.

He heard footsteps, and saw a pair of grimy white trainers come into his vision. He felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"Hello?" a cheerful, chirpy voice greet him. "Excuse me?"

How could anyone be so cheerful? he wondered, raising his head.

The stranger was a girl. She had pale white skin, and long blonde hair. She wore a torn yellow jumper, and a matching yellow skirt, and a pair of yellow tights... man, what was it with this girl and the colour yellow? He looked up at her oval face. She had chipped pink lips, a small button nose and pale, arching eyebrows. Beneath her brows were two shining eyes- and it was these that caught his attention. They were grey, with flecks of green and icy blue across the surface- and so deep...

"Uh, excuse me?" the girl tried again.

"What do you want?" George asked, his voice gruff. He tried not to wince.

"You're George Weasley," she told him simply.

"And the sky's blue," he retorted nastily. He simply wasn't in the mood. She huffed indignantly.

"Well, I did have somthing to tell you," she told him quite seriously. "But, if you're not interseted..."

"No, say waht you have to say," George interrupted.

"I can help you save your brother," she told him.

"Which brother?" George asked, in a failed attempt at humour. He just didn't have it in him at the moment.

"Fred," she said simply.

"Oh," he said. Then, "My brother's dead," he spat resentfully.

"I know that," she said, rolling her eyes. "I never said he wasn't. I only said that I could help get him back."

Who was this girl and what was wrong with her? The dead were dead and they stayed that way... unfortunately.

"You're crazy," he told her bluntly.

"Look, just hear me out, okay?" she spat at him irritably. "I have a plan."

"Oh, I see," George rolled his eyes. "And what exactly do you have in mind?"

She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, indiscreetly looking to see if anybody was watching. Seemingly satisfied, she leaned close to his ear.

"What do you know about time travel?" she asked.

Time travel?

"What are you talking about?" he asked her in annoyance. "I'm tired of games."

"Answer my question," she snapped, "What do you know about time travel?"

"That it's illegal without minestry permission, and that you'd need a time turner," George murmured, feeling confused. What was the point of this?

"Ah, that's where you're wrong." She leaned back, away from his ear. "You don't need a time turner. All you need is faith, trust and pixie dust- and the _Casque de Temps*_," she procclaimed.

"The casket of _what?"_

"Not casket, _Casque- _the _Casque de Temps. _It's French for the 'Helmet of Time'. It belonged to a knight who lived in medieval France. One of the Women-in-Waiting at the castle was a witch, one who practised time travel almost daily- not that anybody knew. One day she hit this knight over the head with her wand, and his head disapeared, which appeared two weeks later in the same spot. The witch expetrimented with the helmet and found a way of programing it- and if you program it just right, you can go whenever you'd like, all you have to do is try it on."

"Oh, and I suppose you just happen to have this 'Helmet of Time', do you?" George asked sarcastically.

"Not on me, no- but I know where it is. If you're up for it, that is."

George was about to turn her down when the full situation hit him. Fred was dead. He could turn down this offer and live without his twin... or he could go back, follow this girl, and save his life.

His mind was made up. He jumped to his feet immeadiately, and the girl smiled.

"Follow me then," she told him, and led him out of the room.

As they made their way down into the dungeons, George realised something.

"Hey, I don't think I caught your name," he called to her.

"Oh? OH! Right! My name is Thyme, Thyme Olsen- rather fitting, huh?"

Thyme. It suited her, George decided.

Suddenly, Thyme skidded to a halt, and George was forced to come to an abrupt stop. She pointed up at the ceiling, and sure enough, hanging there from a chain, was a helmet from a suit of armour.

"You'll have to get it for me, it's too high and I'm too small," she told him. George jumped, wincing slightly- he was sure his ancle was broken, and it radiated with pain as he landed. His finger had only just brushed the metal. Screwing up his face, he tried again- and managed it! The helmet fell to the floor with a clatter.

Thyme picked it up, dusting it off with the sleeve of her jumper, and then held it out to him. "You go first," she told him.

"I don't know how," he reminded her. She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Honestly! It really is quite simple. Just copy me, okay? Okay, one two three-

'THE FORBIDDEN FOREST!" she roared, and George jumped out of his skin. "2nd July, 1997, ten am!" Then she placed the helmet on her head and vanished without a trace. The helmet clattered to the ground where she had been stood.

Cautiously George took it with trembling fingers and held it above his head.

"The Forbiddden Forest," he said as clearly as he could, his voice shaking with anticipation. "2nd July, 1997, ten oh one am!"

And then he too vanished, leaving the helmet to clatter to the ground in the empty hall.

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**A/N: **Chapter two will be Thyme's point of view. Loved it? Hated it? Well, drop me a review!

*****Neither Thyme nor George are good at French. The _Casque de Temps _is what the helmet is called, but that translates to Helmet of Days rather than Helmet of Time. Just thought I'd let you know.


End file.
